


The Switch

by honeymoonmuke



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Curses, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Established Relationship, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Temporarily Human Derek, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymoonmuke/pseuds/honeymoonmuke
Summary: After a fae gift wreaks havoc on Beacon Hills, Derek is left to pick up the pieces. He doesn’t know what’s harder to deal with - the fact that he’s been made human or that Stiles has been turned into an extremely doting gladiator.





	The Switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anefi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anefi/gifts).



> Thanks have to go to my amazing beta, Raya, for supporting me throughout this. She's been an absolute godsend and there's no way I would've been able to do this without her. <3  
> Happy reading! :)

**5.23pm**

Derek hated Halloween.

This loathing came down to a combination of factors: the obnoxious costumes, the teeth-rottingly-sweet candy, the fervent parents… Everything about the holiday rubbed him up in a way that had him wishing he could retreat to a safe hideaway and skip the event entirely.

If he’d had it his way, he’d have done exactly that - camped out in the loft until the distant giggles and shrieks of neighbouring children died down - but, like most times, he couldn’t have it his way.

Nevertheless, as the sun began to dip beneath the hills and the evening approached, Derek found himself standing outside a bathroom door, sighing as his betas glared at the wood.

“Come on, it can’t be _that_ bad!” Erica yelled, scowling at the bathroom door as though it had done something to personally offend her. She was standing a few feet from it, arms crossed.

“Guys, for the millionth time, _this is not going to work_.” Stiles’ voice, slightly muffled, came from beyond the door. Derek rolled his eyes, and a quick glance at Erica showed she was doing the same.

“Stiles,” Erica had a wicked gleam in her eye, “I’m sure you look incredibly hot, so stop being stupid. Just come out of the bathroom and show us what we have to work with, yeah?”

When the door didn’t budge, Derek exchanged a weary look with Boyd. The quiet boy was sitting on the sofa, dressed in his pirate costume with a rather sour expression fixed to his face.

“I’m not coming out, you should go on without me.”

Derek watched, slightly amused, as Erica shook out her arms and tensed her jaw. She looked as though she was two seconds away from breaking into the room and hauling his ass out herself, and he was beginning to contemplate stepping in when Stiles spoke again.

“Derek?” Stiles’ tone was softer than before, lacking the harsh edge of his previous words. Derek’s heart fluttered a little and he quickly cleared his throat to stop a grin breaking across his lips.

“Yes?”

“Could you possibly escort your betas outside so I can change in peace?”

Derek didn’t need the fierce look Erica shot him to know his answer.

He sighed, a betraying smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “No, Stiles. If I have to do this, so do you. Get out of the bathroom. _Now_.”

And if a liiiittle bit of his Alpha dominance happened to slip into his voice, Derek couldn’t really be blamed, could he? He was just as curious as his betas to the cause of Stiles’ distress; for twenty-five minutes, he’d been subjected to the various noises of disgruntlement, curses and grunts that’d come through the bathroom door, causing him to speculate on the cause of Stiles’ foul mood.

“Ugh. Fine,” Stiles relented.

Giddily, Erica clapped her hands together.

“If it’s terrible, don’t say anything mean,” Derek said in a low tone and although he was directing it towards both his betas, they all knew it was aimed at Erica.

She raised her hands, feigning innocence. “I’d _never_ be mean to Stiles!” She exclaimed, lips curling into a pout.

Derek quirked an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’ve been mean to Stiles. But I wouldn’t make fun of him for something he was insecure about… Much.” Derek didn’t have enough time to comment as Stiles finally decided to make an appearance from the bathroom he’d been hiding inside for twenty minutes.

“ _Don’t. Say. Anything_.” Each word punctuated by a step, Stiles appeared from the room with a slightly awkward shuffle.

Derek was glad for the instruction; he doubted he could think of any words to describe his feelings even if he’d have wanted to.

Stiles’ torso was completely bare except for his shoulders where two pads lay, flimsy leather covered in splotchy patches of glitter that glinted every time they caught the light. The pale skin of his chest lay completely exposed, his hands awkwardly held up in front of his nipples. Moving down, he was wearing a ridiculous...skirt? At least, Derek _thought_ it was a skirt. Regardless, the brown fabric bunched around his waist cascaded into an airy circle around his lower body.

All in all, Derek thought Stiles could’ve gotten away with the shameful gladiator costume. His chest was firm - the product of many afternoons spent sparring with Derek - and the outfit certainly managed to accentuate his toned legs. Stiles had _nothing_ to be ashamed of.

He _could’ve_ rocked it, if it wasn’t for the shocking length of the skirt. Derek had to bite back a laugh when he noticed the fabric barely grazed his upper thighs, so short it hinted at intimate curves that he was sure Stiles had no desire to flaunt to the world.

“It’s, uh…” Erica trailed off, and Derek noticed she was trying really hard to contain her amusement. “It’s different. Good different though, right, Boyd?”

Boyd, from where he sat perched on the sofa, was stroking his chin. “It’s one of a kind.”

Stiles threw his hands in the air and sighed loudly. “It’s terrible. You can see _everything_. My nipples, my stomach, my ass-”

“Stiles,” Derek decided to stop him before he spiralled into endless rambles, “it’s okay.” He reached down and plucked a jumper from the back of a chair. “Just wrap this around your waist. If anyone asks, you can just say you spilt something on it.”

He passed Stiles the jumper, watching as the semi-naked man scrambled to tie it around his middle. Once satisfied with the knot, Stiles looked up to beam at Derek. “Knew I could count on you, buddy.” Soft lips were on his in a heartbeat, pressing a grateful kiss to Derek’s lips.

“Gross,” Erica stated.

The two of them had been...dating? Messing around? Doing _whatever_ it was they were doing, for the best part of four months, yet she was still adjusting to the sight of them sharing the odd bit of affection.

Ignoring her grimace, Derek placed his hands on Stiles’ sides, giving him a soft squeeze. “You look great. Best gladiator I’ve ever seen.” To accompany his words, Derek grazed his lips along Stiles’ forehead, trying to press the reassurances through his skin. Stiles shot him a skeptical look but seemed to appreciate the gesture.

“Yeah,” Boyd added, piping up, “at least you’re more Halloween-y than Derek.” Stiles bit his lip, eyes failing to hide the amusement that flickered across them.

“Excuse me, _Vernon_ ,” Derek began, turning around to glare at him, “I’ll have you know that my costume is perfectly acceptable.”

“Derek, you’re dressed as a _human_ . The only people that’ll understand _that_ are us and the rest of McCall’s pack. You’ve completely missed the point of Halloween.” Finished scolding his Alpha, Boyd toyed with the fake parrot sitting on his shoulder and made a face when it fell onto his lap.

“Well at least I’m not sharing centre-stage with a bird,” Derek retorted.

He hadn’t planned on dressing up but found himself badgered into giving in. To the surprise of absolutely no one, Derek had taken the easy way out. A pair of lensless glasses, a watch, and a checkered golf jumper - Derek thought he made a _brilliant_ human.

“Boyd looks great,” Erica interrupted, turning to face Derek. “His costume is a million times better than yours.”

“You’re a little biased though, aren’t you, Erica?” Stiles interrupted. He had a point there; after months of trying, Erica had managed to coerce Boyd into a couples costume. At that very moment, she was wearing a pirate costume similar to Boyd’s - the only differences being that her shirt was cropped and she was wearing a pair of tall-heeled boots.

“We look amazing,” she reached down to tug Boyd up, flinging an arm around his shoulders affectionately. “Don’t we, babe?” Boyd made a grunt of agreement, the hints of a blush spreading over his cheeks.

The show of love struck a chord inside Derek’s chest. With all the chaos of the past few years, it was a great sight to see two people he cared about wrapped in a safe, mutual love. “Much better than a human and a shitty gladiator.”

“Excuse me, Erica _,_ ” Stiles sprang, still held in place by Derek’s hands, “I’m not just a _‘shitty gladiator’_. I’m Carpophorus, wielder of spears-”

“-Slayer of beasts. Yes, _we know_ ,” Erica drawled, picking at a thread. “You’ve told us this before.” Stiles was suddenly looking rather indignant, and so with alarm bells ringing in his head, Derek decided it was time to change the subject.

“We’re meeting Scott in the square at 6pm, and it’s already,” he looked down at his _human_ watch, “half five, so we should get going.” Stiles made a noise of agreement, and Erica mumbled something before vanishing upstairs. She reappeared a few moments later, easily wielding a large spear between her fingers.

“I can see why you didn’t want to keep it at your house.” She passed it over, Stiles’ arm slightly sagging under the weight. “Where’d even you buy it?”

“Yeah, couldn’t have kept it at home, dad would’ve had a heart attack,” Stiles responded, cheerfully dodging the second question. He turned it over in his hands, eyes twinkling. “It said it wouldn’t be sharp, but it’s still quite pointy.” To prove his point, he traced a finger over the tip and winced.

Derek shook his head with a sigh, taking the spear and bringing Stiles’ red finger to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the tip. Stiles gave him a grateful smile before reaching down to entwine their fingers.

* * *

Somehow they managed to stuff the weapon into the back of Derek’s Camaro. Boyd was nominated to ride shotgun, too broad to squish in the back with Erica, Stiles and the spear that’d been ceremoniously named Spike.

For the duration of the journey, Stiles chattered on about his inspiration. Derek took in bits and pieces - Carpophorus was an animal fighter, a fierce warrior, unbelievably loyal - but found himself distracted by the look of intensity spread across Stiles’ face.

He’d noticed that Stiles took on the same expression whenever he felt passionately about something; his eyebrows sort of...pulled together, and his eyes narrowed. Not to mention the fluid way in which his slender fingers came up to wave through the air and act out his speech. All the factors combined to give him a mad-scientist vibe, but Derek thought it was endearingly adorable.

He decided he could spend all day watching Stiles talk.

By the time they rolled up, most of the McCall pack were already in the town centre. Lydia - dressed in a fresh pair of navy scrubs - stood beside an animal that could pass as a large dog, but Derek knew to be Malia. With them was Kira, dressed in a black uniform that made her seem like the most badass spy Derek had ever seen.

“I love your spear!” Kira called out, coaxing a grin out of a slightly self-conscious Stiles. He met her with a hug, both of them having grown significantly closer over the past months. Derek watched as Stiles greeted the other two, noting he had his own ritual with each of them; Lydia got a brief forehead kiss, Malia a rub between the ears.

“You look like a badass,” Erica spoke, addressing Kira who smiled gratefully. “The taser is a nice addition.”

Kira bit her lip, eyes twinkling. “I couldn’t find a fake one, so don’t annoy me.” Erica laughed, and the two of them melted into casual smalltalk. Boyd struck up a conversation with Lydia, and Stiles drifted back towards Derek.

It took Derek a few moments to tune into Stiles’ speech, attention stolen by the sight of the two packs intermingling so effortlessly. It was a pleasant one, that was for sure.

For the longest time there’d been a hidden rift - a treacherous divide between the two groups - but since they’d teamed up to defeat the Oni and the Nogitsune, that’d simply...vanished. Derek couldn’t be happier at the show of camaraderie.

“-and so I told him that it was _stupid_ and that I’d laugh at him, but I really don’t think he cared,” Stiles finished, rubbing his hands together, making him snap out of his reverie. “You agree though, right?”

Derek nodded quickly and Stiles narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t listen to a thing I just said, did you?” Instead of being upset, Stiles seemed amused. “Too lost in Sourwolf Land?” He was, of course, referring to Derek’s imagination. He’d dubbed it so when they’d been out for ice cream and Derek was too busy daydreaming to pay attention to Stiles’ rant on the horror of banana-flavoured ice cream ( _“you won’t know the torture unless you’ve lived through the pain of having your father force you to eat it simply because he thought it was the only healthy ice cream, okay, Derek?”_ ).

“Just thinking,” Derek spoke slowly, and felt Stiles grab his hand. Fingers tangled together, warmth spreading along their joined palms. “‘M glad we all get on.”

“It _is_ nice to see,” Stiles agreed, thumb brushing the back of Derek’s hand. “We’re two separate units, but we work well as a group too.” He moved to rest his head against Derek’s arm, Derek wrapping a hand around his side to pull him closer.

“Kinda like _us_ ,” Derek commented. Stiles blushed, nodding furiously against his shoulder.

“Exactly like us.”

_Us._

Derek and Stiles. Stiles and Derek- _us_.  

How nice it felt to refer to himself and Stiles as _us_.

For the longest time, Derek had dreamed of curling his arms around Stiles and holding the man close to his chest. And finally- after so long of waiting- he could do just that.

It still took him off-guard, if he were being honest. Sometimes he’d wake up, bleary-eyed and sluggish, and it’d take him the better part of a minute to realise that he wasn’t imagining things - Stiles was _actually_ laying beside him. The only person Derek trusted wholeheartedly was just beside him, fingertips playing with strands of Derek’s hair as he hummed a gentle tune.

Before Stiles crept into his heart- before the _fire_ , even- he’d used it to describe different things. The adventures he took with Laura, the nights he spent teaching Cora basic algebra, hell, even the time he and Peter teamed up to sneak out of the Hale Mansion at night- that was _us_.

_Us_ was Derek and Stiles knowing that they were both enough by themselves, but choosing to stick together because they worked better as a team. It was Derek and Stiles supporting each other, through the highs and the lows. It was a relationship so secure it needed no labels, no proof that they trusted each other.

It was familiarity. It was a sense of belonging. It was finally finding the love that he’d had been looking for all this time.

_Us_ was exactly what had been missing in Derek’s life.

“Where did your dad want us to patrol?” Derek squeezed their tangled fingers, relishing at the warmth that spread across his hand. Stiles hummed, taking his time to procure an answer.

“Everywhere, I think. He has deputies set up across the busiest areas, so I think he just wants a second set of eyes - y‘know, _supernatural eyes_ \- in place in case something goes wrong. He just wants to be on the safe side, and with all of the messed up stuff that’s gone on, I can’t blame him; I’d feel the same way if I was in charge of this town,” Stiles explained. Derek made a sound of agreement, tilting his lips up to brush a small kiss to his forehead.

“We can split up into groups and wander about until the kids go home. I’ll ask Scott what he’s thinking, but I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to pairing off,” Derek strategised. It’d all work out perfectly- Scott and Kira, Boyd and Erica, Malia and Lydia, Derek and Stiles. He’d get to spend the night appeasing the Sheriff whilst spending time with one of his favourite people (alright fine, his _favourite_ person).

“Can I borrow your sweater if I get cold?” Stiles asked mischievously as everyone began to get into their pairs.

“Isn’t it normally the other way around?” Derek teased. “The dashing young prince notices the shivering damsel in distress and offers his cloak?” Despite having his face turned away from him, Derek knew Stiles was scowling.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Der. Gender norms are nothing more but a way of the past. Get with the program.” An outsider might’ve missed the way Stiles’ voice quirked, a dead giveaway of his amusement but Derek picked up on it in a heartbeat, shaking his head with a smile.

“ _Of course_ you can borrow my sweater, Stiles, you know that. You can have it now, if you’re already cold.” Derek dropped Stiles’ hand and went to play with the hem of his golfing jumper, getting ready to shed it and pass it across to the ridiculous man.

“As much as I appreciate that offer, I’m okay right now. My costume looks questionable enough without making myself a weird gladiator-golfer hybrid.” Derek could only hum in agreement. Stiles had a point there.

Before anything more could be said, Stiles’ attention was stolen by the sight of Scott - weighed down by a large bag- hobbling across the square. Upon seeing his best friend, Stiles broke down into a fit of hysterical giggles, doubling over as he gasped for air so hard that Derek was slightly alarmed he was having some sort of mental breakdown until he saw the source of amusement for himself.

One glance at Scott and it wasn’t very hard to understand why Stiles was in bits. The poor man had decided he’d wanted to be ‘approachable’ and ‘fun’ this year, thus resulting in his costume being Scooby Doo.

Now, Derek had never seen the show, but Stiles had filled him in on the details. It centered around Scooby Doo- a talking dog- as he solved crimes with his gang of investigative friends.

Scott’s costume- obviously handmade, bless him- seemed like a rather cheap knockoff, with its limp tail and wonky ears. The brown onesie was slightly too long so the feet dragged on the ground, and the patches of black embroidered over the fabric looked less like circles and more like messy splotches.

“Sorry I’m late,” Scott apologised the moment he was within earshot. “Something’s happened.”

“Yeah,” Stiles wheezed, clutching Derek’s arm for support, “the guys at the roadside theatre show called. They want their costume back.”

As Scott rolled his eyes, the others formed a semicircle around him. Derek’s interest was peaked - ‘something’s happened’ was never a good phrase to hear. “What’s going on?” He asked, disliking the look of dread he found in Scott’s eyes.

“Wait-” Stiles interrupted, seriously. He stepped forward and dug his fingers into the pocket of the hoodie around his waist. “Before we get into the new crisis, I have a question.” Scott stared at his best friend, sighing like he already knew what was coming.

Stiles held out a plastic bag full of what seemed to be dog treats. “Want a Scooby Snack?” He dissolved into a new fit of laughter and Scott groaned.

“You know, I would’ve laughed at that if it wasn’t for the fact that I received a _very concerning letter!_ ” Scott said, shaking a note at his best friend’s face. “Found this at Deaton’s,” he added, passing the cream envelope to Derek took it quickly. Derek furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the cursive script that read: _To the packs of Beacon Hills._ “I’d just finished changing when it appeared on a table.”

“Appeared?” Stiles questioned, shifting closer to Derek to peer at the offending object. He seemed to have sobered up, and Derek was glad. As much as he found Stiles’ joking around endearing (most of the time), he needed him to be serious and help them figure it out.

After giving the envelope a long glare, Derek passed it across, knowing that Stiles would want to check it out for himself.

“Yeah. It just materialised from thin air.” Scott seemed a little distressed, and Derek noted the easy way in which his entire posture sagged as Kira pressed a light touch to his arm.

Stiles trailed his fingers across the slip. Derek waited for his diagnosis, knowing he’d have a better clue as to what was going on than any of the others - Stiles had spent the summer researching curses and charms to update their Bestiary.

“It doesn’t seem enchanted - no traces of magic. I think you should open it.” He slid it back into Derek’s hands.

“Yeah?” Derek addressed Scott, going ahead and ripping it open when he received an affirming nod.

He felt seven pairs of eyes follow his movements as he carefully pulled out the offending letter. The smooth paper came easily - a simple message printed in stark black print against the white background.

Reading aloud, Derek heard his voice catch.

_“Alphas McCall and Hale,_

_We have been watching your town for the past few weeks and have become thoroughly disheartened. None of you seem to be happy! Where is your sense of fun? Adventure? We’ve decided to do you all a favour and give you some excitement. For the evening, you shall all turn into the creature whose costume you’re wearing - effective immediately. You have until midnight to find us or the changes will become permanent._

_Sincerely, Queen of the Beacon Hills Fae.”_

While everyone around him erupted into confused conversation, Derek’s eyes hung on the two words, _effective immediately_. By that, what did they mean? He didn’t feel anything unusual, but he’d always been warned against meddling with faes.

“I feel completely fine,” Stiles admitted. Derek glanced to meet his eyes, and they exchanged a worried look. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe their stupid curse - gift, _whatever_ \- is broken-”

Oh.

_Oh._

Something wasn’t right; Derek didn’t like it. What was-

“Oh my God,” he groaned, doubling over. His head banged against the ground as he tumbled down, heart pounding painfully against his ribcage. His vision swam, the edges tinged a weak red, and he was distantly aware of a throbbing in his fingers.

An all-over ache soon replaced the piercing jabs of pain. Wincing, Derek pushed himself into a sitting position. He felt _terrible_ but was worried about his packmates and- _oh God_ \- Stiles.

When he managed to force his eyes open, he wished he’d stayed laying down.

It seemed as though everyone had become possessed. Derek’s eyebrows bunched together as his gaze landed on Erica, waving her hook arm and yelling something completely incoherent. To her left, Boyd was behaving similarly, intermittently reaching up to stroke the fake parrot on his shoulder.

Derek stared in horror, baffled not even _beginning_ to describe his confusion, as the others did...peculiar things. Kira made her way to the edge of the square with a series of backflips, posture rigid and face set in an unfamiliar tone of seriousness; Lydia pulled a notebook from her pocket and began circling words while Malia- still in werecoyote form- darted away from the group and melted into the trees.

It was all so odd, Derek found himself unable to find his bearings, looking around in bafflement, trying to figure out what was going on.

What really made him blink and rub at his eyes, though, was the sight of Scott, the...man(?) on four legs, chasing his tail.  His onesie seemed to have melded to his skin, the patchy spots blemishing Scott’s otherwise-perfect complexion.

If Derek strained his ears, he could just barely make out various sounds of disgruntlement and confusion from Scott’s mouth. He was acting like a _dog_ , and contrary to the many jokes Stiles had cracked over the years, Derek knew this was completely out of character.

Just as he was about to get up and try to figure out _what the hell_ was happening, a loud cry cut through the air.

“My love!”

Derek looked up in time to see Stiles barrelling towards him, the younger man wielding his spear with a new precision. From the few moments he had before Stiles was upon him, Derek noted that he seemed...stronger, somehow. He carried less weight on his shoulders, posture firmer, and a calculated look of purpose hung across his smiling face.

“What are you-” Derek tried, breaking off when Stiles collapsed in front of him. Hands grabbed his, and soon lips were pressing against his palms.

“What happened? Why are you on the ground like this?” Stiles quizzed, frowning deeply. There was raw concern flaming in his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze made Derek feel slightly on edge.

“I fell,” Derek stated simply. Stiles didn’t seem satisfied with this and made a low grunting sound to illustrate the fact.

“You were _pushed_. Look at this bruise on your forehead.” Gentle fingers brushed against the sore patch on his skin, and Derek winced loudly. “Who did this?”

“It was just me,” Derek said slowly, unsure of how to react to this unusual behaviour of his boyfriend. “I tripped over the ground and fell over.”

“Oh no!” Stiles exclaimed, concern evident in his voice.

Derek knew it right then and there: _this wasn’t normal Stiles_.

Normally, Stiles would have taken his apparent clumsiness as an opportunity to tease him, maybe playfully jibe at his ‘ _wolfy senses being out of whack’_. Derek wasn’t sure what had happened, but Stiles was different- something was wrong with him.

Something was wrong with all of them.

A hand went to apply pressure to his arm, and Derek looked down to see blood flowing freely from a scrape on his forearm. “Sorry,” Stiles apologised, words stretched as if it pained him to cause Derek any physical discomfort, “it’s the only way it’ll stop.”

“Oh no,” Derek pointed out, “it’ll heal, remember?”

After receiving a blank stare, Derek sighed and sat back. Arguing would be like fighting a losing battle. Might as well wait and show Stiles.

He was going to heal soon, anyway.

* * *

  **7.30pm**

Derek  _didn’t_ heal.

After a minute and a half of Stiles mumbling words of reassurance, his hand applying a steady pressure, Derek had begun to worry. It wasn’t like Stiles to forget _anything,_ let alone the fact that Derek could heal.

From then, it only took a moment of scowled confusion until Derek came to his conclusion.

_It was the Halloween costumes_ \- everyone had turned into them! Erica and Boyd- sorry, the _pirates_ \- were hitting each other with their plastic swords, yelling about some lost ‘booty’. Lydia’s distant mutterings about tropical diseases and injections reached his ears as she made quick furious notes in her book.

Even Scott’s slightly disjointed speech as he yapped about ‘mysteries’ and ‘live bait’ made sense now that he had a little context. And Stiles- beautiful, wonderful Stiles- he’d _become_ the gladiator he’d been impersonating.

He wasn’t sure what was more terrifying - the fact that Stiles had a sharp spear he could now effectively use, or the fact that all of _his_ werewolf abilities had simply disappeared. Logic would suggest the latter, but if the way Stiles had started to nonchalantly twirl the weapon around single-handedly had anything to do with it, Derek was inclined to go with the first.

Finally off the ground, Derek looked at the disarray in front of him.

In the distance, he could hear shrieks of laughter, and briefly felt a pang of terror shoot through his chest.

Internally debating a course of action, he decided to try and group the packs together. Once united, they could sweep across the town and track down the faes before the time ran out, hopefully defusing the situation before any serious supernatural issues could arise.

In an attempt at gaining his friends’ attention, Derek cleared his throat. _Nothing._

Awkwardly, he clapped his hands together loudly. _No response._

From his peripheral gaze, Derek noticed Stiles- who was gazing up at Derek adoringly - furrow his eyebrows.

In the few minutes he’d spent brainstorming, he’d become aware that Stiles seemed to hold him in a special place in his heart. He was constantly there to provide a comforting pat or word of comfort and it would’ve been touching had it not all felt...off, somehow.

“Oi! Everyone listen up!” Stiles hollered.

To his utter non-surprise (of fucking _course_ , they’ll listen to the weird ass version of his boyfriend and not him even in times of crisis), it did the trick, and Derek watched as the packs drifted back around.

Boyd and Erica halted their sword fight, Lydia slipped her medical notebook back in her pocket and Scott looked up. Even Kira - who moved with great spy-like agility - slunk back towards them. The only one who didn’t show up was Malia and Derek had a feeling she wouldn’t be reappearing for the rest of the night, too preoccupied in her werecoyote form to care about his pitiful human troubles.

“Right, uh, thank you,” Derek acknowledged, and Stiles rewarded him with a toothy grin. He didn’t know how to explain the situation to any of them (let alone the goddamn pirates babbling on about the treasure even now), so he started off with a simple, “we have a problem and I’m going to need your help.”

Lydia eyed him inquisitively. “What kind of problem?” She flicked to a new page of the notebook and for a brief second, Derek felt a flit of hope.

“You know that the supernatural exists, right?” He asked tentatively, testing the waters. He knew it could be risky, but at this point Derek just needed an overview of how screwed they really were.

“Please don’t waste my time,” Lydia bit back. She slid her book into a pocket and glared at Derek, flicking her hair behind her shoulders.

“Umm…” Derek’s mind took a few seconds to formulate a new plan. He tried to think like a normal, simple-minded human, but found himself stopping suddenly when he realised that he _was_ a normal, simple-minded human. _Weird_.

“There are a group of bad people hiding in the town. Unless we stop them, they’re going to do some horrible things,” he explained. Although vague, Derek hoped that it would resonate with everyone.

Kira was suddenly at his side, dropping her voice low to say, “Like assassins?”

Lightbulb flashing in his head, Derek nodded vigorously, deciding to go along with it- they could all draw their own conclusions from his ambiguous statement. “Exactly, Kira.”

“We should help him,” she announced, beginning to look through her backpack and Derek returned his attention to the rest of the group.

With Stiles’ hand wrapped around his, Derek took a deep breath. _Everything would be okay._ He would _not_ be trapped as a human forever, they could do this.

They had to.

* * *

**8.04pm**

It took him a little time but Derek managed to work his way around the group, pulling each of them aside and motivating them.

With Kira, it had been the threat of assassins he used to get her on his side. Stiles was easy enough- he’d clearly do anything for Derek. Scott, too, wasn’t that hard to convince- all he had to do was procure the bag of ‘Scooby Snacks’ still hidden inside Stiles’ jumper.

Boyd and Erica were told that the bad guys held a large amount of treasure that they could have a cut of, and Lydia agreed to help when she realised that the only way she’d get some answers would be to tag along and help.

It was lying, but it was the only option. If he managed to reverse the curse, Derek hoped they’d forgive him.

“Okay.” Derek clapped his hands. To his immense relief, they seemed to listen this time. “We’re going to split up and track down the bad guys!” He began, making sure to meet everyone’s eyes. He was putting on his _Alpha voice_ but, without his powers, he could only hope he sounded somewhat convincing.

“Stiles, you’re with me.” Derek paused when Stiles wove his arm around Derek’s, jerking him closer to his side. Not sure what to do, Derek responded by softly patting the arm. “Scott and Kira, you’re together.” Kira gave Scott a firm stare, lips twisting into an unimpressed pout when he barked. “Boyd and Erica, you’re also partnering up.”

Derek’s gaze fell on the final member of the group, and he fell short. “Lydia...You, uh, you can-” He broke off and was forced to re-evaluate his plan. With Malia lost in the forest, he no longer had anyone for her to pair up with.

“I’ll go by myself,” Lydia interrupted, “it’ll be easier without any distractions.”

For half a second Derek considered forcing her to join a group, but then quickly remembered that Lydia - despite the absence of her banshee abilities - was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. In fact, now that Derek came to think of it, _he_ was probably the weakest in the group.

Oh, Derek _really_ didn’t like that.

“Use the clocktower. We’ll meet back at this square in two hours and hopefully we’ll have had some success. Is that okay with everyone?” Two hours brought them up until 10pm and Derek was hoping that if - God forbid - they hadn’t been able to procure anything, they could scramble together to make a last ditched attempt at defeating the faes.

“Aye, me hearty,” Boyd growled, and Derek winced.

“Great. Watch out for the children, they might be acting a little odd. Try not to interact with anyone, and if anything bad happens, _call me_.” Thankfully, Derek had already gone to the liberty of explaining to Boyd and Erica how to use their phones.

“Everyone okay with the plan?” As a chorus of agreements filled the air, Derek felt as though a small weight had rolled off his shoulders. They had a long way to go, but at least they were _finally_ moving in the right direction.

“Ten o’clock. Do not forget.” He gave them a final, sweeping look that he hoped spoke _dominance_ and _leadership_ , before walking towards the exit of the square. Stiles trotted along beside him, fingers squeezing the bulge of Derek’s bicep from time to time.

He didn’t feel _optimistic_ , but it was something close. They had a plan, he was confident they’d follow it.

Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

 

**9.15pm**

Everything was _not_ okay.

It’d been an hour already.

The others hadn’t got in touch which suggested that things were going to plan, and it was just him and Stiles, walking through the decked up streets of Beacon Hills. If he closed his eyes, Derek could’ve almost imagined they were on a date.

And then- out of _nowhere-_ out jumped a vampire.

First of all, Derek was taken aback by the fact that they _existed_ , he’d been told many times- both by his mother and his sister - that vampires weren’t real, simply fabricated as another way for the media to make money. So when a small girl leapt out of a bush, fangs bared and snarling loudly, he wasn’t proud of how loudly he almost screamed. Almost.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, pushing Stiles behind him. The little girl was wearing a large cloak, the price tag still sticking off the end. Her blonde ringlets framed her pale face in a way that would’ve made her seem sweet had it not been for the blood red pupils that seemed to burn holes all over his face.

“Derek!” Stiles cried, stumbling slightly. When he walked back over, he gave Derek’s arm a shove, seeming slightly miffed to have been pushed away.

“S-Sorry,” Derek mumbled, staring firmly at the girl. She hadn’t approached them and was instead staring at them slightly eerily, seeming to be observing them. Every now and again she’d crook her head to the side, opening her mouth wide to expose her venom-dripping fangs.

Stiles, sheet-pale, sidled up to Derek’s side and whispered, “what’s wrong with her, Derek?”

“Umm,” Derek began, not sure of the answer himself. “She’s hungry, I think.” To affirm his point, she hissed loudly and took a few cautious steps towards them.

“Can we feed her?” He asked, sounding entirely too unsure. Derek wasn’t used to Stiles sounding anything other than confident and he realised that he didn’t like it at all.

“No, Stiles, we can’t just-” _oh_. Maybe they could.

Derek, after taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, took a few tender steps towards the girl. He knelt down so he was at her eye level and tried not to show his fear when her pupils dilated. “What’s your name?” He asked, smiling uncertainly.

“Rebecca,” she replied, voice almost a hiss.

“Well, Rebecca, I think I have something you’d like.” Pretending it didn’t shake, Derek held out a hand to the young vampire. When she took it without any trouble, he lost some of the tension in his shoulders. “Do you want to come with me? If you have any friends, they should come too!”

She surprised him by letting out a piercing whistle. For the first time, Derek was actually _grateful_ he’d lost his super-hearing - had he been able to hear the sound for all its shrillness, he was sure he’d be deafened.

A darkness seemed to surround them but Derek kept his gaze firmly on the little girl. A few metres away, Stiles gulped, but Derek tried to tune it out. As long as he had Rebecca on his side, he was relatively confident that nothing would come to harm either of them.

“This way,” she spoke, finally standing back. His stomach did a backflip when he counted about twenty vampires standing around them, ranging from toddlers to adults. The fake blood on some of them looked so realistic that he found himself feeling a little panicked. “Stiles, come too.”

And then they were off.

At some point, Stiles managed to glue himself to Derek’s side, clutching his free arm. Derek felt bad - the man was so scared he could feel him shaking. He wished there was something he could do to ease the nerves, but he had to concentrate on the present crisis.

“Here we go,” he said, gently pushing Rebecca through the entrance to the high school gym hall. The rest of the vampires crowded in after them and Derek dropped her hand to walk over to the punch station.

Crossing every bone in his body, Derek pointed at the bowls of punch. “You probably feel thirsty right now. Luckily for you, the school have provided you with enough... _juice_ to keep you going all night! If you run out, there’s extra in the kitchen. Drink up!” And then he swiftly moved out of the way, dragging Stiles with him.

They made it to the exit of the hall before Derek peered around curiously. To his great relief, the vampires - apparently as simple-minded and impressionable as he’d expected - had seemed to fall for it. The tropical fruit punch - glowing in the same red way it had done when Derek attended the school’s Halloween dance in _his_ youth - was making a killer substitute for the plasma he assumed they craved.

So far so good. **Derek - 1, Halloween - 0.**

“We’re going to go now,” he muttered, carefully manoeuvring Stiles from the school. The gladiator went willingly, still shaking a little. With the vampires taken care of, Derek had the space to focus on the new crisis at hand. _Stiles_.

_What_ he was supposed to do for the terrified man, he wasn’t sure. He was determined to figure it out, however.

* * *

 

**9.42pm**

“You’re so attractive,” Stiles spoke dreamily. He had his head on Derek’s lap and was gazing up at him with lust-filled eyes.

Derek, from where he was playing with strands of Stiles’ silky hair, let out an affectionate laugh. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Derek noticed his eyebrows crease together, a recognisable expression of confusion cutting across the familiar face. “Why do you keep calling me that?” Stiles asked.

“It’s your name,” Derek explained.

“It’s not, though,” Stiles said, pouting somewhat. “I’m Carpophorus: wielder of spears, slayer of animals!” The spin Stiles put on his official title made a smile tickle the corners of Derek’s lips. Despite not being the person he knew, Stiles was still hiding in there somewhere.

Not wanting to argue about it, Derek tried to change the topic. He could talk about the plan, but they only had a few minutes until they were due to meet with the others and he knew it was unrealistic that they’d be able to find anything useful in time.

Instead, he noticed that Stiles was shaking. After the run-in with the vampires, Derek had guided Stiles to the nearest park where they’d found a bench to situate themselves on. After a long debate over Stiles not wanting to feel weak in front of his ‘love’, Derek managed to convince him to curl up on the bench with him. Derek had looped his arms around Stiles’ chest and pulled him close, talking in a manner he hoped to be comforting until the man had stopped shaking. Now, something seemed to have changed again.

“You’re not in any danger,” Derek reassured, squeezing his arms in an attempt to reinforce his point.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not scared anymore, I know you would not lie to me about that.”

“Then why are you shaking?” Derek asked, trying to keep his voice soft. Stiles bit his lip, a brief look of conflict crossing over his face.

“I’m cold.”

“What happened to your hoodie?” Only now he realised the hoodie he’d given Stiles to save some of his dignity had vanished.

“I’m not sure. I think that weird...dog thing took it.”

_Dammit, Scott._ Derek resolved the dog? man? Must have stolen the hoodie for the ‘Scooby Snacks’ that’d been left in the pocket.

“Take my jumper.”

Carefully shifting Stiles, Derek pulled his golfing jumper over his head in one, fluid moment. When he looked down, he noticed Stiles’ eyes were resting on a section of his torso that’d been exposed when his shirt rode up. Rolling his eyes, he passed him the clothes.

“I can’t take this: you’ll be cold. I am fine freezing for you.” Derek was slightly alarmed when Stiles held no indication of a joke within his words.

“No. Please, take the jumper.”

Stiles shook his head. “You can’t make me. It’s not right.”

“Not...right?” There was something there, Derek just couldn’t put his finger on it. Stiles gave him a knowing look.

“The secrets of courtship may never be revealed.”

Oh. _Oh_. Of course. In a world of power and capability, Derek supposed it made sense for Stiles to feel weird accepting his jumper. Despite this, he was determined his lover wouldn’t go cold.

“I’ll be more impressed if you take my jumper. It’ll show that you care about me enough to listen to my wishes. I find a good listener _very_ attractive.” Derek found himself winking, and it seemed to work as Stiles blushed a deep, deep scarlet.

“O-Okay.” He sat up and pulled the jumper over his head in the blink of an eye. Once done, Stiles laid back, head adopting its previous position on Derek’s lap.

Silence fell, and thankfully, it was a comfortable one.

* * *

 

**10.35pm**

Derek was stressing. The meeting time had passed and they were missing Erica, Boyd and Kira.

He and Stiles had returned to the square a few minutes before 10pm and soon after, both Lydia and Scott had reappeared. Neither of them had had any success and Scott had managed to _lose_ his partner, resulting in Derek exchanging a few angry words with the hound.

“What are you going to do now?” Lydia asked, looking at Derek sharply. According to her, she’d spent a few hours observing a group of children that were acting oddly by chanting spells and singing unusual songs. Derek was so relieved when she told him that she’d stayed far away that he almost hugged her. Out of everyone, he could not do with Lydia being incapacitated by witches - she was his voice of reason.

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted. He was sitting on the wall of a fountain, head held in his hands. There were less than two hours to go and he had _no_ clue what to do.

“Hey,” Stiles spoke, and Derek looked up to see him slip onto the wall beside him. Stiles put a consoling hand on his shoulder. “We can work this out. You just need to think differently.”

“Differently?”

“Yes,” Stiles paused for a moment, scratching his chin, “when you are fighting a lion, your mind tells you to run. It tells you to turn around and put as much distance between you and the animal as possible.” He looked to Derek to check he was following so Derek gave him a small half-nod. Derek had no idea where he was taking it, but would hear him out nevertheless. “You need to think differently in order to survive. Put aside personal attachments and engage your rational brain. In order to fight a lion, you must stay standing tall and move with deliberate strikes. Even when you’re terrified, you must keep standing. This is what you need to do. Whatever it is that’s preventing you from thinking clearly, you must distance yourself from it and focus on the bigger problem. And then, simply, defeat your lion.”

_Huh_. Amidst the slightly confusing metaphor, Derek understood his meaning. He had to prioritise. If he focused on all that could be lost, he’d never make any headway.

Turning to Stiles, he gave the man a grateful smile. “Thank you.” Out of habit, Derek leaned in to press a brief kiss against Stiles’ head. The man gasped, his grip on Derek’s arm tightening all of a sudden.

“I, uh, oh, you, uh- you are very welcome,” Stiles stammered, cheeks burning redder than Derek had ever seen them.

Feeling a little bad, Derek stood up abruptly and called Scott over. He waited as Scott did an awkward-looking jog over to him, his tail wagging excitedly.

“Tell me again: where did you last see Kira?” Derek asked, trying to listen to the answer through new ears.

“We were near the police station and she yelled something. When I looked around, she was gone,” Scott explained, voice barely understandable through the slurring of his sounds.

“Can you remember anything else about the moment? Anyone you were around, perhaps something you saw? Were Erica and Boyd anywhere nearby?” Derek pressed, pushing down a wave of desperation.

“Oh, yes!” Scott exclaimed, seeming to have had a revelation. “There were some men!”

“Do you remember anything else about these men?”

“Big men. Dressed in fancy costumes. They had those weird pirates...Boyd and Erica? Kira disappeared just after we saw them.”

Derek groaned, full of frustration. He knew exactly what had happened.

There was a group of dads in Beacon Hills that met weekly to reenact historical battles - he knew because on a Saturday morning when he ran through the park on his morning jog, he’d see them all dressed up. They were out tonight, presumably chaperoning their kids - Derek had seen them earlier in the evening, dressed up as a group of musketeers.

If Boyd and Erica had angered them in some way, they could’ve been taken by the musketeers. Scott and Kira, having stumbled across them, would both have reacted very differently to the scene. Scott was apparently impassive, but Kira - under the impression that they were part of her team - would have chased after them.

“What does that groan mean?” Lydia asked, finally interrupting Derek’s thoughts. He turned to look at her, giving her a tired look.

“I know what happened to-”

Before he could finish his sentence, a large sound crashed through the air. Startled, Derek spun around to see Boyd, Erica and Kira running towards him, Boyd stumbling somewhat. He was relieved until his eyes landed on the three men following them, each brandishing a sparkling sword.

“This isn’t good _at all_ ,” Derek muttered. Stiles was at his side in an instant, grabbing at his arm.

“What do we do?” He asked, sounding worried. Derek was relieved that both he and Lydia seemed to have clued on to what was happening - he didn’t have the time nor the patience to explain that the musketeers were very, very bad.

“We, uh,” Derek broke off, alarmed at how quickly they were all approaching him. “We need to help them.”

Squinting his eyes, he managed to notice the absence of Boyd and Erica’s swords, as well as Kira’s taser. They were weaponless and Derek had only his pair of useless glasses.

“How?” Lydia asked, moving back a few paces when the group neared them.

“I don’t know,” Derek said, words heated. _Think, think, think._ He had to _think_.

“What are their weaknesses?” Stiles prompted.

“Dads. A group of dads who are angry and have swords,” Derek said, thinking aloud. “They are angry at the pirates. They want to...kill the pirates.” Lydia nodded her head, gesturing with her hands for Derek to speed up. “They… They won’t want to hurt innocent people!” He exclaimed, having a lightbulb moment in the nick of time.

When he looked around, Boyd, Erica and Kira were rushing past him. Derek glanced back at Lydia and Stiles and gave them a nod. “You know what to do,” he instructed, hoping with every fibre of his body that his words rang true.

Stepping forwards, Derek braced himself for impact before leaping forward and tackling the dad in the middle. Thankfully he managed to avoid the sword, and when they went tumbling towards the ground, he saw Lydia and Stiles do the same.

Quickly using skills he’d had since he was a child, Derek pinned the man down. He used a hand to pull the sword from his grasp and tossed it far away.

“What do you want?” He asked hurriedly, looking either side and sighing with relief when he noticed both Lydia and Stiles had managed to disarm their musketeers.

“They tried to take our children. All we want is revenge,” the man said, eyes glinting angrily.

Derek, making a note to yell at Boyd and Erica for that later, adopted a calm facade. “You can’t have revenge. They were confused and I’m sure it was just an accident. Please,” he softened his expression, dropping his voice slightly, “can you try to forgive them?”

The man shook his head adamantly. To the left of them, the man Lydia had in a chokehold rasped out, “we will kill them for what they tried to do,” earning him a hit over the head from the fiery redhead.

“Aye,” agreed the final musketeer.

Derek was left in a rather difficult position. It was clear they wouldn’t calm down and time was running out.

“Kira?” He called back. The woman stepped forward, crossing her arms. “I need you to go into that shop over there. Find the biggest length of rope and bring it over here. Be fast, please.” He gestured towards the local hardware store. Kira nodded curtly and began a series of acrobatic flips across the square. She disappeared inside before reappearing less than a minute later, a large coil of rope held in her arms.

Working together, Derek and Kira first worked on tying up the man Derek had pinned down. He struggled, but with the two of them working together they managed to overpower him easily.

Next came Lydia’s man, and then the one Stiles was straddling. Once they were all secure, Derek instructed the group to help him lug them into a café and that was where they left them - bound and angry.

Derek felt bad, but on the other hand, he really didn’t have a choice. Time was ticking and he had things to do. Hopefully they wouldn’t remember when the curse was reversed - _if_ it got reversed.

Stepping out of the shop and ignoring the angry shouts, Derek stalked across the square. Boyd and Erica were sitting on the ground by the fountain, chatting away. When they noticed him, they scrambled to stand up and both looked extremely sheepish.

“Which one of you is going to tell me what the _hell_ you were thinking?” He exclaimed, finally able to let out a little of the anger he was feeling. He glared at them until Boyd cracked, the man holding up his arms apologetically.

“We were jus’ tryin’ do as you asked, Captain,” he mumbled, accent thick. “You said we ‘ad to track down the fairies so tha’s what we did!”

Kira stepped from the shadows, giving Derek an unimpressed look. “I think their children are dressed up as fairies, sir. I get the impression that our colleagues tried to take them as hostage, resulting in _them_ being taken. When I managed to rescue them, the men started yelling about getting revenge.”

“Thank you for breaking them out, Agent Yukimura,” Derek said, trying to sound earnest.

“It’s all part of the job, sir.”

“In our defence,” Erica interrupted, voice sounding far too uncertain, “we think _they_ are the evil fairies! The ones wi’ the booty!”

“Why do you think that?” Knowing that they could just be confused, Derek tried not to get his hopes up. It was difficult not to, though, when Boyd and Erica exchanged a look.

“They took Polly,” Boyd exclaimed, and when Derek looked at him he was completely taken aback to see he had tears in his eyes. “They took Polly and they made her fly away.”

Derek blinked. “They...took your plastic parrot...and made her _fly_?”

This was absolutely ridiculous. Out of everything Derek had been dragged into, this was the _worst_. He couldn’t believe he was standing there, having just tied up a group of dads, talking to a pirate about a magic parrot and-

“Yes, captain,” Boyd replied solemnly. “One of them had a big shiny stick. Waved it through the air and then Polly flew away.” Erica nodded along, taking it just as seriously as Boyd.

“How many fairies were there?” Derek asked. He was sure the group of dads had five children between them - four of them girls. He’d seen them at the park after a meeting of their fathers’ medieval reenactment group.

“Seven, ‘a think,” Erica answered.

It made sense. Why _wouldn’t_ the faes disguise themselves as fairies? Hiding in plain sight was a clever plan, and if there were three of them, it fit with the lore that the faerie queen always travelled with two companions.

“Where did you find them?”

“They’re in the woods,” Boyd answered.

“Can you remember whereabouts? Can you take us back to them?”

Erica nodded, as did Kira.

“Brilliant!” Derek exclaimed. _Finally_ , something seemed to be working in his favour. He had a plan. For the first time that evening, there was a chance that they might succeed.

Turning around to address the group, he let his gaze fall on the clocktower and promptly felt all optimism dry up in the back of his throat.

_It was 11.35pm._ An entire hour had passed by and he hadn’t even realised.

Eyes widening, Derek clapped his hands together. “Alright, guys. We have a new plan…”

* * *

**11.47pm**

Everything was going well - they were nearing the faeries and morale was high. Derek had been told they were on track, and maybe - just _maybe_ \- they could do it.

* * *

**11.56pm**

Everything would have been okay, had Derek not _fallen down a well._

They’d been navigating through the forest in almost complete darkness, the torches on their phones doing little to illuminate such an absolute black. Stiles’ grip on his arm had loosened when the man had decided he and his _massive fucking spear_ wanted to lead the group, and although he’d been temporarily relieved, Derek was now firmly regretting the decision to let him leave him.

He’d fallen into a well. A _well_.

Granted, it wasn’t too deep of a well. It’d been full of soaked leaves, too, meaning that although it wasn’t the most pleasant experience, it hadn’t hurt him too badly to tumble down the thing.

Still, though. It was unbelievably humiliating.

Currently, he was trying to convince the others to leave him be. He was twitching; time was ticking and they could find the faeries if they just _listened_ to him and left him stranded.

“Please, guys, just go ahead. I’ll be fine down here, you need to find the faeries before it becomes irreversible,” he asked for the millionth time. He would be fine. It was cold, yes, and the dampness was slightly uncomfortable to be surrounded by, but he could deal with it if it meant getting his friends back to normal.

“Shut up, Derek,” Lydia scolded. “We’re saving you. None of us know what we’re doing without you.”

Derek sighed, rubbing at his face. “Please, Lydia, you know exactly what you have to do. The evil faeries! The ones with the- the _treasure_. They’re just along the forest a little bit. So, so close.”

Despite the fact he couldn’t see her face, Derek knew she rolled her eyes. “Derek, I know you made that all up. The only ones stupid enough to fall for that lie were Boyd and Erica,” she paused when Scott barked, “and maybe Scott, too.”

“Why...Why are you helping me, then?” Derek asked, taken aback. Surely if they’d seen through him, they would be more than happy to leave him stranded in a hole. Not only had he lied to them but he’d tried to deceive them, putting their lives in danger.

Lydia, sighing, said, “I feel something. I’m sure we all do. I can’t place what it is, but there’s something inside me that links us together. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I know that I trust you and until I understand the situation, I’m going to continue trusting you. Now, could you hurry up and grab the rope.”

Derek swallowed back a lump in his throat. “Wait, what rope- _ow!_ ” He exclaimed, rubbing his forehead when a thick coil hit him.

“Oh, sorry,” he heard Kira call. He grumbled an acceptance, looping the coil around his waist and giving them the go ahead.

Clinging to the length, Derek allowed himself to be pulled to safety, collapsing on the wet ground as soon as he was out of the horrible well.

“Th-Thank you,” he managed, wheezing ever so slightly from the exertion of keeping himself supported for so long. Kira reached down to clap him on his shoulder.

“No problem. Now, shouldn’t we get going?”

Before he could reply, Stiles was hauling him to his feet and pulling him into a fretful hug. The man’s strong arms encircled his waist in a way that almost had Derek wheezing for air, yet he couldn’t find it in himself to push him away.

“Yes, we should,” Derek said, rubbing Stiles’ back softly.

As the group continued on their way, Derek lingered with Stiles for a few seconds.

“I thought you had died,” Stiles breathed out, and Derek heard the shaking in his voice. “You fell down and you crashed and it made a big sound and I- I,” he broke off, voice catching. “Derek, I know something is weird and wrong, but it is like the lady with the fiery hair said - there is a bond between us. You have to promise you will not die, okay? Please, promise me.”

Derek, unsure if he’d be able to take much more of this emotional rollercoaster, hummed beneath his breath. “I promise I won’t die,” he said earnestly, fingers reaching up to play with Stiles’ hair. The overwhelming urge to bridge the gap and kiss him swarmed his mind, but yet again he found himself suppressing it. “We really need to go, though.”

Stiles made a sound of agreement, and so they walked quickly to catch up with the others, arms wrapped around one another.

* * *

**12.02pm**

They’d just found the faeries. Derek wanted to cry - they’d come _so_ close only to miss out by the skins of their teeth.

“Please, Your Majesty, I beg of you to reverse this,” Derek asked, practically on his knees. Contrasting the rest of the forest, the clearing they were congregated in was open and bright. Strings of lights were scattered around the trees, casting a warm glow over the area.

In front of him was the Queen Fae, to each of her sides her attendants. When Derek and his friends had discovered them, they’d shed their disguises as the three little girls and become who they really were - three awful faeries. The Queen was sat atop a large mushroom, and Derek was slightly perturbed by the size of her. Despite being a _faerie_ , she was of the same approximate height and weight of him.

Under normal conditions, Derek reckoned they could’ve taken them on. The faeries had magic, granted, but that was limited and the packs had _strength_. It wouldn’t be an easy task, but they could’ve. However, these were not normal conditions.

“The letter was very clear, Alpha Hale. You did not reach us by the given time. Therefore, we owe you nothing,” the Queen Fae said, voice sounding like wind chimes. She stroked the top of her wand.

“Please, I’m begging you, I _need_ you to do this,” Derek asked, voice desperate. He was surprised to feel a lump lodged in the back of the throat and cursed himself for allowing the emotion to overtake him at such an inopportune time.

“Quite frankly, Derek, you’ll get over it. This was a fair competition and you lost. Take your loss like any self-respecting person and get over it.”

Derek gritted his jaw. He _couldn’t_ just ‘get over it’ - not when his friends and his kinda-boyfriend had changed completely, not when the entire town was in danger.

“I can’t, Queen Fae. I mean no disrespect, but you’re completely overstepping. If the other packs in the area knew of this, they’d come and sort you out.” Now that Derek had said that aloud, he began to think that he should call for some reinforcements.

Seeming to be on the same train of thought as him, the Queen waved her arms forwards. “Tilly, Delilah, seize him!”

Derek took a few steps backwards, trying to escape, but found his arms pinned behind his back. Making a sound of indignation, he tried desperately to break free of their grip. “Let me go!” He exclaimed angrily, wishing more than ever that he had to ability to rip himself free.

“We need to change you. We can’t have you ruining all the fun, Derek. Now, I’ll offer you the choice: what do you want to be? It must be a completely brainless thing, mind that, but you can choose. I’ll give you that much.”

Blinking quickly, Derek managed to jerk his head around. He made very deliberate eye contact with each member of the group, eyes lingering on Stiles’ for a second longer than the rest. Speaking slowly, Derek said, “I need you all to listen to me. We need to defeat these faeries. Their power lies in their wands - if you break them, they’ll die-” he broke off when a hand slammed over his mouth, but the damage was done: his friends knew what to do.

Being pulled around, Derek found himself pushed up against a tree. Vines skated around him, tying him down and effectively ridding him of all power - not that he had much, to begin with. The Queen Fae gave him a dirty look, but she seemed to decide to save the transformation for after the fight as she rolled up her sleeves and stepped from her mushroom.

Derek - although obviously annoyed at being entrapped - was slightly grateful for _where_ he was stuck. The angle allowed him a clear view of the battlefield and he was glad to be able to see what was happening.

Stiles charged first. As he went, Derek couldn’t help but feel a pang of fondness flood his chest. The moment wasn’t right, he knew that, but the way Stiles ran - such a steely determination written across his face - was enough to remind Derek of the real Stiles. With Spike, his spear, held between his fingers, Stiles went for the Queen Fae herself, aggressively trying to hit her with the large object.

Eyes dragged from Stiles’ combat, Derek watched as the others fanned around the field. Boyd and Erica went to try and deal with ‘Delilah’, Erica throwing herself onto the faerie’s chest as Boyd tried to grab the wand. They both missed, but Derek found an edge of pride rushing through his chest when they got up and tried again.

Scott, Kira and Lydia went for ‘Tilly’. They seemed to have a different approach, Lydia trying to goad the faerie into giving up as Kira sneakily tried to grab the wand. It wasn’t working, though, as Tilly just grew angry and cast them all back with a wave of her wand.

In fact, now Derek was looking around, he realised it was going _terribly_ . Two, unorganised packs were _nothing_ compared to three skilled magical beings - he was foolish to think otherwise.

“You see, Derek,” the Queen Fae called out, grinning as she plucked Stiles’ spear from his hands. Not looking at Stiles, she smirked evilly at Derek. “You can’t win. We are so much more powerful than you. Compared to us, you are just pathetic.”

Derek was about to disagree when Stiles stepped in. Clearly fuming at both the confiscation of his weapon and the comments made at Derek, he yelled at the Queen. “Take that back!”

She looked down her nose at Stiles, frown on her face when she realised he was standing between her and Derek. “Why should I? It’s the truth. Now, I suggest you move so I can begin Alpha Hale’s transformation.”

“No,” Stiles said, adamant. He lunged forwards, and it wasn’t until a few moments later that Derek realised he’d gone for the _wand_ , not his spear. He’d succeeded, as well, and was now shouting triumphantly. “You let him go, or I will snap this thing.” Stiles threatened, holding the object between trembling fingers.

The Queen let out a mocking laugh. “You think you can defeat me with a _threat_ , boy?”

A sudden noise cut through the air. Derek’s attention snapped to the left where Erica and Boyd had finally managed to seize control. Boyd was pinning down the faerie’s legs, Erica straddling her chest, and together they’d managed to grab the wand.

“Take that, you thief!” Erica yelled, grunting from the effort of exertion as she managed to snap the wand. Derek was aware of the Queen crying out but found his attention caught by the way the faerie let out a loud shriek before exploding into a mist of glitter and dust.

“Wooh! Go team!” Boyd shrieked, lunging to pull Erica into a big hug. The two of them stayed sitting on the forest floor whilst Derek’s gaze shifted over to the other faerie.

“Scott, go fetch!” Kira yelled. Apparently they’d also managed to wrestle a wand. Derek watched - eyes wide - as Kira threw the wand into the trees. Though their faerie also tried to get back the weapon, she was held back by Lydia and Kira’s combined strength.

A few moments later, she exploded similarly to her friend, Scott coming out of the forest with a wag in his tail - two halves of the wand falling out his mouth.

“No!” The Queen called out, anguished. She lunged towards Stiles, fury in her eyes. Derek seemed to watch in slow motion as Stiles pirouetted, gaining velocity as he span until he managed to kick her in the face.

As the Queen went hurtling towards the ground, Stiles finally broke the wand, the effort causing a few veins to stand proud against his skin. The Queen writhed on the ground, and Derek winced when he saw her face begin to shrivel, awful wails streaming through her mouth.

All of a sudden, she stilled. Barely moving, she turned to Derek and shrieked. “Derek Hale, you will- you will _pay_ for this.” She seemed to begin mumbling a verbal incantation but was interrupted when another scream worked through her body.

She looked to be in immense pain, but Derek - still bound to the tree - couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but relief as she finally, _finally_ exploded into a million fragments. Despite trying to curse him, Derek believed that she hadn’t been successful - he didn’t feel anything different.

A few moments passed. The only sounds in the clearing were those of heaving chests and the distant gnawing sounds of Scott chewing one of the wands to pieces.

For a terrible, blood-freezing moment, Derek wondered if the spell wasn’t going to reverse. Maybe they’d taken away their only chance by destroying the Queen - maybe she’d been the only one able to reverse the curse, maybe-

“Shit,” he exclaimed, doubling over. A pain ripped through his chest, so intense that he found the edges of his vision ringing a startling scarlet.

A few yells cut through the air, and he was vaguely aware of someone grabbing his arms, but then it was over. Derek passed out.

* * *

 

**12.35pm**

Derek was beginning to come around.

Everything _hurt,_ but something good was hidden amongst the pain. As he began to blearily open his eyes, he sighed with great relief as he realised everything was sharper again. _He had his powers back_.

“Derek?” He heard a small voice ask. Swallowing, Derek forced his eyes open completely, gaze falling to a very tearful Stiles. “Oh my God,” he sobbed, hand gripping one of Derek’s in a grip so strong he became scared he’d lose circulation, “you’re alive.”

“Wh-” Derek started, coughing when he realised there was an itch lodged in the back of his throat. “Of c-course I am. What happened?” He managed, voice soft. Stiles helped him into a sitting position, throwing his arms around Derek’s middle without a moment’s hesitation.

“We got you off the tree and you collapsed. Scott said he couldn’t hear a heartbeat. We thought- _I_ thought the curse had killed you,” he explained, still sniffling.

Derek pushed him back, Stiles’ face now a few inches from his own. Reaching up, Derek trailed his fingertips over the glistening tracks on Stiles’ face, wiping away some of the tears. “I’m okay, Stiles. I promise.” Derek suddenly remembered the others and looked around, alarm melting into relief when he saw they all looked pretty...normal. “The others? Are you all back to normal?”

Stiles nodded, humming. “The spell broke when the Queen fell. Lydia and I came around first, and the others a bit later.” Stiles’ grip on Derek's waist tightened, a new wave of tears flooding his face. “ _Derek_ ,” he whispered, blinking quickly, “you did really well.”

A warmth spreading across his chest, Derek shook his head. “We didn’t get here in time. I made you _kill_ people.” When Stiles let out a small laugh, Derek grew confused.

“Have you read the lore about faeries?” He asked, rolling his eyes when Derek told him he hadn’t. “When you snap their wands, they’re transported elsewhere. They aren’t _killed_ , but they’re forced to live a life as a normal, powerless human. You didn’t make us kill anyone.”

Unable to comprehend how _relieved_ he was that he hadn’t made his friends murderers, Derek could only nod. “O-Okay,” he managed.

Stiles stood up, offering him a hand. Derek found himself on his feet a moment later, one of Stiles’ arms curled around his waist to keep him supported when his legs threatened to buckle.

“He’s right,” Lydia spoke up, tentatively approaching them. “You, uh, you did really well, Derek. Thank you for saving us.”

Biting his bottom lip, Derek felt a blush paint his cheeks. “It wasn’t a big deal,” he brushed off. He didn’t want to be thanked - so many things had gone wrong that he felt the opposite of whatever hero they were trying to paint him out to be.

“It was,” Scott joined in, arms around Kira. “The only mistake you made was letting me eat _dog food_. Other than that, you were amazing.” Letting out a short laugh, Derek shrugged.

“You would’ve done the same for me,” he balanced, knowing it to be true. The McCall and Hale packs worked side by side. He knew Scott would have come to his rescue in the same way Derek had done for him.

“Yeah, we would’ve.”

Before Derek could wonder about Boyd and Erica, he heard them approaching him. Both running, he grunted when they collided against him, each of them hugging him so fiercely he thought he might explode.

With Stiles pushed aside and Derek back on the ground, he glared playfully at his betas. “You guys okay?” He asked, a smile on his lips. Erica was straddling his lap, Boyd clinging to his side.

“You, uh- Derek, you almost _died_!” Erica exclaimed, burying her head in his chest. Boyd did likewise, and so Derek reached out to run his hands over both of them. He decided to wait until they’d finished scent-marking him to continue, knowing they both needed a little time to calm down.

“It’s okay,” he comforted, patting Boyd’s back, “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

It was then that Derek realised just how worried they must’ve been for him. He guessed it made sense - he’d been cursed with the last of an angry fae’s magic, who knows what could’ve happened.

Minutes passed and Boyd and Erica made no signs of moving. Derek didn’t want to disrupt them, so simply sat back and let himself be held, and rubbed, and loved.

“Derek,” Scott said, approaching carefully. “We’re going to go back into the town. We’ll make sure everything’s okay, go back and untie those dads. We’ll call if we need any help, so you should just go home. Thanks again, dude.” Unable to approach him, Scott just gave Derek a small wave.

“Alright. Thank you,” Derek agreed. “Good luck.” He was glad that it wasn’t _him_ having to check on the town. He imagined it’d be in shambles.

Glancing to Stiles, Derek raised an eyebrow. “Are you..?” He asked, watching as Stiles shook his head firmly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Derek nodded, eyes watching the retreating backs of Scott, Kira, Malia and Lydia. He was pleased to see that they all seemed fine, apart from a few scratches here and there.

Finally, Boyd pulled back. “Okay,” he mumbled, wiping at his glowing eyes. “I’m good.”

Erica followed suit a moment later, eyes puffy. “We’ll go back and wait at home,” she said, grabbing Boyd’s arm and pulling him off Derek. Once off the ground, she helped Derek up. “You need to talk to Stiles,” she elaborated. Boyd hummed in agreement, nodding slowly, and then they began the short trek through the forest, clinging to each other.

“You alright?” Stiles asked, eyeing Derek carefully. He looked down and realised he was swaying slightly, still feeling weak.

“Yeah,” Derek mumbled, accepting the arm Stiles offered. “I’m okay.”

“Do you want me to take you back to your house?” Stiles asked, helping Derek through the forest. When Derek went to disagree, Stiles laughed. “Oh, Derek. Sorry, I phrased that like you have a _choice_. You don’t - I’m taking you home.”

A few moments passed. “Are _you_ alright?” Derek questioned, suddenly realising he hadn’t checked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, voice clear. “Everything feels a bit weird, but I’m not hurt or anything.” He paused, hesitating. “Derek,” he began, voice low and nervous, “I’m so, _so_ sorry for being obsessed with you.” When Derek went to quell his apologies, Stiles shook his head. “I was _crazy_ for you - quite literally, I _threw a spear_ at someone for you. I’m sorry.”

“Stiles,” Derek soothed, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Stiles responded immediately. “It’s not _at all_ . I like you a lot and I guess it must’ve just been amplified when the transformation took place. It’s all coming back in little bits and pieces and- oh my _God_ I was so annoying. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising!” Derek urged, heart aching to see him worked into such a state. “You couldn’t help it. And anyway, the spear thing was kinda badass.”

“Oh, really?” Stiles asked, teasing a little. Although worry lines still cut across his forehead, Derek was glad to see that he didn’t seem to be as fretful anymore.

“Mhmm. You were a real badass. Going around snapping wands like you owned the place.”

“Okay, that was _one_ wand, but I guess you’re right. I was kinda badass,” Stiles admitted, shrugging. Derek could tell he was pleased with himself.

Derek found himself climbing into the Jeep, realising they’d hobbled back to town. As he glanced around the streets, he let out a relieved sigh to see it wasn’t _quite_ as destroyed as it could’ve been.

“Thanks for looking after me, though. When I was freaking out, ‘n stuff.”

“It’s alright. You would’ve done the same for me,” Derek said, repeating the words he’d used on Scott earlier. Stiles pushed the Jeep into gear, pulling out onto the road.

“I would’ve,” he confirmed, risking a small glance at Derek. “I would do anything to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh, I know,” Derek said, casting his mind back to the events of the night. “You don’t need to, though. Most of the time, I have a pretty good handle on everything.”

“Yeah, _most of the time_ ,” Stiles copied, “when you don’t though - that’s when I’ll be there. Anything you need, Der - and not just because you saved us all tonight.” Drumming his fingers on his steering wheel, Stiles sighed. “I like you a lot, Derek. _So much_ \- like, a scarily amount of much,” he broke off, laughing quietly, “what I’m saying is that I’m here for you.”

“I know,” Derek admitted. Pulling up outside his house, Stiles followed Derek out of the Jeep. They stood in front of the vehicle, and Derek took a hold of Stiles’ cold hands, brushing his thumbs over the back of them. “I’m here for you too.”

Smiling gratefully, Stiles’ eyes flickered across his face. “Could I kiss you now?” He asked, voice slightly breathless. Derek nodded, corners of his mouth twitching when Stiles stepped forwards and bridged the gap between their bodies. For the first time in what seemed like _forever_ , Derek marvelled at the feeling of their lips moving against one another, tendrils of warmth and care circling around them.

When Stiles moved to pull back, Derek shifted his grip to his waist, keeping their foreheads pressed against one another.

“Do you want to come in?” He mumbled, lips catching against Stiles’. The younger man nodded, a dreamy look floating through his wide eyes.

“I’d love to.”

After pressing a final, loose kiss to his lover’s lips, Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and they began the ascent to the Hale house. Stiles knocked his shoulder against Derek’s, squeezing his hand with a firm grip.

As they entered the house, Derek realised he was unbelievably happy.

Maybe Halloween wasn’t so bad, after all.


End file.
